


Beyond his scattered ashes

by straightouttapopstar



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Gen, M/M, a bit fluffy, by his stepdad, kinda sad, my only excuse is that, so here you go :), there is ZERO content where seliph is getting fathered, wow i have no excuse for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightouttapopstar/pseuds/straightouttapopstar
Summary: Sigurd observes what is happening down in Jugdral from above, and he smiles in content, knowing that both of his boys are being taken care of.





	Beyond his scattered ashes

**Author's Note:**

> You really think you could stop my arvisigurd agenda?? Never. You have to pry these sweet boys from my cold dead hands my friend  
> Apologies in advance for any inconsistencies with canon or something but I haven’t played the game oof (but off the top of my head, isn’t there a moment when Seliph and Arvis do actually exchange a few words?)

“What you have done is shameful.”

His voice rings in my ears with guilt—but I cannot take back what I have done, I cannot turn back the time, I cannot help us both even if I wanted to. Yes; ultimately what I have done is shameful, sinful, and all negative connotations one could attach to murder of someone that still means a lot to me.

And before me, stands his child; Seliph, the Scion of Light, descendant of House Chalphy. Sigurd’s son, the very spawn of his genes with his smile, his clothes, and even his sword.

It is him—I attempt to fool myself, to no avail.

“Seliph—“

“Do not pronounce my name like that. You are _disgusting_.”

I am disgusting; this child states. He says that I am disgusting. He expects me to regret. Maybe even repent for what I have done. This young boy dares to step foot here to complain about me—nay, defeat me. It is a shame he does not know I will not allow him.

“Very well. But you must know that I loved and _still_ love your father. He was a brilliant man.”

The boy readies the sword in his hands as his shoulders begin to shake, and furious tears begin to gush out of his pleading eyes.

“You love my father? Of all people; _you_?”

“Yes, I...I adored your father above all else.”

“Then why! Why did you have to wrong him like that?! **Why!?** If you loved him at least as much as Mother did...we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

According to him, if I loved Sigurd at least as much as Deirdre did, we would not be partaking in this war still. Instead, we would be lounging around the cosy library of the House of Chalphy, next to the fireplace, Seliph playing checkers with Deirdre, beating her by twenty minimum as she would laugh in the thrill of the game. And Sigurd?

Sigurd would still be smiling.

“We...we could have all been friends. If you loved my father that much, you could have even become my uncle, or other father. I would not have minded. That is because I know that you made Father happy more than anybody else.”

That **hurts**.

“And you think that Deirdre would have accepted this... _distasteful_  union between us? Do not be a fool, Seliph. For a man raised in Sigurd’s stead, I expected so much more from you.”

I barely evade the furious Tyrfing that almost manages to wedge itself into my stomach by Seliph’s lead, who is more than just vexed.

He is crying.

“You are a fool, Arvis! A _damnable_ fool, that is! Have you never realized that Deirdre never loved you in that way?! She was forced to marry you—and was extremely shaken once she found out the truth about what connected the two of you! She would have been elated to hear that you had found solace in Sigurd, because all she wished for every one of her friends was for them to find **happiness**!”

As the silence envelopes us both, I begin to think over Seliph’s words, who sheathes his sword in the process, having pulled it out of the ground it had landed in like an anchor. It is quite humorous how he does it, really—the boy is obviously still too small to wield the legendary Tyrfing, and that’s obvious due to the way he holds it in his hand—or, barely manages to keep it held, as it falls down almost immediately due to its ominous weight.

It is his father’s mystical blade, after all.

“Happiness? _Happiness_...no matter what you say or suggest, that has disappeared along with Sigurd’s ashes blown away by the force of Valflame”—trying to protect myself somewhat, I assert—“there is no point in you telling me all this now. Do you not realize?”

As ready for battle and ready to hit the final nail on this boy’s coffin as I am, at the same time, my compassionate side is desperately yearning to talk to him for this one last time. After all, he is the stepson I never had.

Therefore, I do not open my scarlet tome quite yet—but, shuffling my flaming hair away from my forehead (which frequently obscures my view), I swiftly move towards Seliph. I give him no time to react to my gesture—and instead, I embrace him, even if I can feel his hand attempting to lift the Tyrfing upwards and aim it at me.

He is Sigurd’s child. Sigurd would raise him correctly. Seliph would never attack an ally of Sigurd. He wouldn’t, I comfort myself, fearing for my life.

And he does not, I sigh in relief, as I feel the glistening blade drop to the ground at our feet.

“ _Shh_...”

“You have no right to speak, old man! You abandoned my father! You are the reason he no longer walks on this earth!”

“I will not deny you. But, I would like to say the following—Seliph, I’m sorry that this is the world you have been born into.”

I think over my words carefully, and I start again.

“A world besieged by war, death, hatred, loss—you do not deserve this.”

“And who...are _you_ to say such things?”

“It is because I regret what I have done. I truly regret them all.”

Seliph, I do feel emotions such as regret. Although I have been painted for decades as the ruthless ruler of Grannvale, one who managed to stir up a great war and incinerate an entire army, I can feel. I feel, and think, and therefore I am open to being something more to you than just an enemy on the way to victory.

“To be fair, Seliph...you may be surprised, but I would love to be your stepfather.”

I do not hear a thing save for a few sniffles—and I feel Seliph’s head leaning on my shoulder for comfort, and his tears soaking into my garments.

Guilt reaches its _ultimate_ peak.

“I’m...so sorry, Seliph.”

Was that the correct thing to say? I’m not sure how to react to his behaviour now, seeing as I am not sure whether more affection would in any way ameliorate the situation.

But instead of attempting to attack me again, instead of trying to seek ruthless revenge that would never fill that emptiness within his heart—he pulls me closer to himself. And then, I finally feel it.

 

 

I feel...

 

 

 

 

_...love_.

“It is alright. I forgive you. Father.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) I hope you’ve enjoyed this little thing even though it barely has any meaning oops  
> Best case scenario after this? Arvis and Seliph both call off the entire war, everything is ok and the blue boy is raised with his sibs under Arvis. He grows up as one happy boy  
> Sigurd looks down at them from Heaven and he thinks ‘yeah this is a nice ending to this horrible tragedy’


End file.
